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T H E 



BATTLE OF LONG -ISLAND 



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DELIVEBED BEFORE 



THE NEW-YORK HISTORICAL SOCIETY, 



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FEBRUARY 7, 1839. 



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BY SAMUEL WARD, JR, 







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N E W - Y O R K : 

PRINTED BY WILLIAM O S B O R N , 
88 William-streel. 

18 3 9. 



labors 1 So also are we the servants of posterity. The road is an 
emblem of the destiny of those who made it ; built for the use of a 
generation, passed over as the' path to some near or distant land, suc- 
ceeding races inquire not whose hands constructed it. They, too, are 
travelling toward their journey's end. 

History and time are ours ; the index and dial-plate which measure 
our span, the foundations of our knowledge, and the standard of our 
computation, the instruments of spiritual and material comparison. 
But the one sits, like a queen, upon a throne, robed in purple, a sceptre 
in her hand, and on her brow a diadem, wherein each race of men 
enshrine a new jewel. Heroes and statesmen are her courtiers, and 
the brightest shajies of human intelligence hover around her. The 
other is creation's slave, fate's executioner ; unerringly reckoning 
the debt of man and of nature, the minutes of life, the seasons of the 
year. He reaps, with a pitiless scythe, 

' Harvests of souls by Hope matured, 
Garlands of self-devoted flowers; 
The spirit bright to hfe scarce lured, 

The heart that mourns its saddened hours.' 

Had authentic records preserved for us the whole experience of 
nations, the precious inheritance would have permanently advanced 
our material progress ; and in a still greater degree will the heritage 
of accurate memorials of the men and events of modern civilization, 
of the motives of the one, and the causes of the other, enlighten 
posterity in the path of human imjjrovement. The traces of early 
society are proofs of material and sensual progress ; as for instance, 
the pyramid, and the bracelet upon the arm of the lonely king en- 
tombed within its giant walls. These are points of departure ; for 
the distance accomplished may be measured ; not so the route beyond. 
It is true, we know the virtues or the crimes of a few, in those days, 
when nations rose and fell, even as they now expand, and when the 
?/ian>/ felt not. T/icy are now the lords of the earth. But only since 
the Jlat lux of (luttemberg, have ' the people' begun to realize their 
long- withheld inheritance ; and events are now chronicled, less to grati- 
fy the pride of the living, or the curiosity of the unborn, less for pur- 
poses of narration and romance, than to show the increased capabili- 
ties of man, and swell the page of his moral experience. 

Apart from the higher, the epochal incidents in the life of humanity, 
the epitomes of years, deeds, and nations, thei'e are events which do 
not claim to be inscribed upon the page of general history ; and yet, 
from the deep local influence they once exercised, still preserve a com- 



memorative interest, and convey an impressive lesson. The great war 
of our independence is rife w^itli such illustrations. Its memories and 
heroes crowd so thickly near us, that its history cannot yet be written. 
But as each day adds to the legendary store, and we draw nigh the 
hour when it may be traced, time silently distils the mass of events, 
and the mingled vapors which ascend from the alembic, will be con- 
densed by impartiality into truth. 

The events we are about to recall, occurred in New- York, and its vi- 
cinity, between the months of September, 1775, and September, 1776. I 
am aware that these varying scenes and imperfect sketches may resem- 
ble a phantasmagoria, rather than pencillings of men and of actions. 
But they will be exhibited upon a curtain, stained with as noble blood as 
was ever shed in the cause of freedom ; and though the hand that 
holds the transparent glass, be a feeble one ; though faint the colors, 
and indistinct the outlines ; the personages and scenes are not ficti- 
tious or fanciful ; but once stood gallantly forth, with drawn sword 
or levelled musket, relieved by a battle-cloud rising from ground so 
near, that a cannon fired there at this moment, would startle with 
its reverberations the peaceful echoes around us. 

The revolution was hardly three months old. But already from 
the cradle of liberty it had strangled its serpents at Lexington 
and Bunker Hill. The American army, encamped around Bos- 
ton, owned Washington's command, and held at bay the be- 
leaguered British. In the oppressed colonies, a spirit of resis- 
tance had organized the resolute yeomanry ; and with the victo- 
ries inscribed upon the national escutcheon, the patriotic chord was 
vibrating in every heart. War had not yet disturbed our goodly 
city, which lay in unconscious repose, on the mellow night of the 
twenty-third of August, 1775. One or two riots, the result of po- 
litical faction, rather than of unadulterated rebellion, alone gave tokens 
of a turbulent spirit. The English governor, Tryon, still dwelt here, 
an object of courtesy, though of mistrust. In the North River, off 
the fort, lay the Asia, a British man-of-war, with whose presence 
people had become familiar. The public mind was in a state of vague 
apprehension. It remained for its hopes and fears to assume a 
definite shape. 

Toward midnight, our forefathers were aroused from their first 
slumbers, by the thunder of artillery. At that silent hour, the omi- 
nous sounds were unwelcome visitants. The cannon peals were re- 
lieved by the sharp discharge of musketiy; and the stillness that ensued, 
was occasionally broken by the hasty footsteps of one summoned to 
his duty, with unbuckled sabre trailing on the ground, or by the agi- 



6 

tated cry of a helpless woman, fleeing from the audible danger. 
Drums beat to arms, volley after volley announced the continuation 
of strife ; and the half-wakened dreamer no longer mistook these 
cries of war for echoes of the eastern battles. As the night advanced, 
one body of men succeeding another was revealed by the blaze of 
torches, and the cumbrous wheels of the field-piece they were drag- 
ging, seemed to leave reluctantly the scene of conflict. By and by, 
troops of dwellers in the lower part of the town, escaped through 
the streets, from their menaced or shattered abodes, in confusion and 
fear. Was the enemy in the city ] the Battery taken ? Were the troops 
forced to retreat before a victorious foe 1 These interrogatories were 
breathed rather than spoken, or if put, were not answered. It was a 
memorable night, and something seemed to have delayed the ap- 
proach of morning. 

The town was early astir. At break of day, many inhabitants were 
seen issuing from their dwellings, and wending their way to the Bat- 
tery. To those already assembled there, when night uprolled her 
curtain of clouds, the glowing dawn that shot over our noble bay, 
disclosed traces of disorder, and ravages of cannon-ball, on the one 
hand, and on the other, the smoke still ascending from the angry 
artillery to the powder-stained rigging of the Asia. Moreover, the 
field-pieces, which but yesterday guarded the Battery, were gone. 
These the timid accepted as tokens of danger, and prepared to depart; 
the intrepid hailed them as auspicious omens of future victories. 

The twenty-one pieces of ordnance had been removed, by order of 
the Provincial Congress. Captain John Lamb's artillery corps, and 
the ' Sons of Liberty,' headed by ' King Sears,' were the heroes of 
the adventure. The efforts of the enemy to protect these royal 
stores, had proved unavailing. Warned of the intended movement. 
Captain Vandeput, of the Asia, detached an armed barge to watch, 
and if needful, interfere with, its execution. A musket discharged 
from this boat, drew Captain Lamb's volley, and a man on board was 
killed. The Asia fired three cannon. The drum beat to arms in the 
city. The man-of-war sustained the cannonade. Three citizens 
were wounded, and the upper parts of various houses near White- 
hall and the Fort, received much injury. A son of Captain Lamb, 
whose regiment covered the cannon's retreat, is now living in this 
city, and in the rooms of the ' Historical Society' may be seen one 
of the very balls fired into New- York that night. 

Captain Sears, the other leader of this exploit, was one of our 
earliest patriots. As far back as the fifth of March, 1775, in an en- 
counter between the Whigs and the Tories, the latter, being worsted. 



were said to have dispersed, lest King Sears, as he was called in ri- 
dicule, in his fury should head a mob, and do them some capital injury. 
He had been a member of the New- York Provincial Congress, had 
acted a conspicuous part in the excitements occasioned by the Boston 
Port Bill, and was in after months warmly recommended by General 
Washington to Major General Lee, for his zeal and fidelity. Imme- 
diately after this affair, he disappeared from our city, and sought, in Con- 
necticut, livelier sympathies than were tlicji to be encountered here. 

A detailed account of the Asia aftair, and of its consequences, may 
be found in the columns of the ' New- York Gazette,* a newspaper is- 
suedin those days from the south-east comer of Wall and Pearl-streets, 
by one James Rivington, a loud-voiced royalist. It is almost impos- 
sible to turn over its time-stained leaves, filled v^^th the records 
of frivolity and faction, of benevolence and crime, of the current 
opinions and absurdities, and of the wants and supplies of an olden 
day, without reflecting on that strangest feature of modem times, the 
press, or imagining how different would be our views of remote ages, 
had the nations we admire, possessed so authentic a source of his- 
tory. The Romans have been shown, by a recent French writer,* to 
have had their journals ; but these did not, like ours, chronicle the 
wishes and feelings, the hopes and the vices, of the many ; else 
we should not eternally deplore lost decades, or incur danger of 
having our early faith controverted by the ingenuity of a Niehbuhr. 

James Rivington was, then, the editorial and proprietary publisher 
of the ' New- York Gazette,' and as the opposite party subsided in 
the expression of its political sentiments, and loyalism was no longer 
in terror of a Sears, he not only gave free vent to his own views, 
but so far forgot himself, as sadly to abuse those of his radical neigh- 
bors. Emboldened by their quiet reception of his denunciations, he 
expressed these in still more forcible tones, and doubtless exulted in 
this victory over whig opinions. 

It was high noon, on Thursday the twenty-third of November. The 
Gazette had been issued that morning, and the worthy editor was 
seated in his cabinet, examining the new-born sheet, just like any 
gentleman of the press of our day, when the sound of hoofs on the 
pavement beneath, drew his attention to the window. Looking out 
into the street, he beheld with dismay, his old enemy, King Sears, at 
the head of an armed troop of horsemen, drawn up before his door. 
The men and their leader dismounted with the utmost deliberation, 
and a part of them entered the printer's abode. A few moments 

* M. VicTOK Leclbbc. 



8 

after, he saw bis lieloved printing-press cast into the street, and heard 
the tumult raised in the compositors' room above him, Ijy those en- 
gaged in the work of demobtion. To his despair, the materials thrown 
upon the pavement were speedily transferred to the dock, and the 
invaders sallied forth with many a pound of precious types in 
their pockets and handkerchiefs. A large crowd, collected by so 
unusual an event, stood aloof, quiet spectators of the scene. The 
cavaliers remounted their steeds, and rode off toward Connecticut, 
whence they came, and where, as was subsequently ascertained, the 
offending types were melted down to bullets. Thus liberty assailed 
the freedom of the press, and the balls whilome cast with joy into 
types reassumed their pristine shape and destination ; the plough- 
share was re-converted to the sword. 

Although no opposition was offered to these pi'oceedings, by the 
body of citizens assembled near Rivington's door, there stood upon 
a neighboring stoop, a lad of eighteen years of age, with an eye of 
fire, and an angi'y arm, haranguing the multitude, in a tone of earnest 
eloquence. He urged that order should be preserved ; apj^ealing 
warmly to the dignity of citizenship, ' which,' said he, ' should not 
brook an encroachment of unlicensed troops from another colony,' 
and offering to join in checking the intruders' progress. The sins 
of Rivington could not be forgiven ; but the youthful orator was 
listened to with respectful deference by that crowd, which already 
recognised the genius and fex'vor of Alexander Hamilton. 

On the following Thursday, no Gazette appeared. Whether on 
this account, or because the town dignitaries were really incensed, 
this typographical execution created much sensation in the province. 
Fancying it a trampling on their authority, and a reproach to their 
vigilance, the New- York Congress complained to Governor Trumbull 
of Connecticut ; and, demanding a restitution of the abducted types, 
they observed that the present contest ought not to be sullied by an 
attempt to restrain the liberty of the press. We shall not pause to 
weigh the political considerations involved in this inter-colonial dis- 
pute, which may have been the first respecting state rights. WHiile 
New- York and Connecticut were at issue, poor Rivington went off to 
England, and there the matter ended. This event was deemed vv^or- 
thy the attention of congress, and seemed of sufficient importance to 
be laid before the reader. It is, moreover, the only remarkable inci- 
dent which preceded the arrival of General Charles Lee in New- 
York. 

Early in 1776, this brave but headstrong officer, begged to be des- 
patched from Boston to Connecticut, for the jmrpose of raising vo- 



lunteers, and of reinforcing the New-Jersey and New- York batta- 
lions under his command. With Governor Trumbull's aid, General 
Lee succeeded in levying twelve hundred men among the zealous 
inhabitants of that spirited province, and reached New- York with his 
recruits on the fourth of February. He was met on the frontier by 
the earnest entreaty of the committee of safety, who exercised the 
powei's of government during the recess of our Provincial Congress, 
that he should pause upon the borders of Connecticut. Captain 
Parker, of the Asia man-of-war, had menaced the town with destruc- 
tion, should it be entered by any large body of provincials. Undis- 
mayed by these threats, and disregarding the prayer of the timid cor- 
poration, Lee crossed the confines. Immediately after his arrival, 
conscious of the designs of the British in this vital quarter, and of the 
need of entire harmony between himself and the local authorities, he 
induced congress to take its jurisdiction out of the hands of these 
officers, and to detach from their own body a committee of three, who, 
with the council and himself, were to confer upon a plan of defence. 
His orders were to fortify the town, to disarm all persons unfriendly 
to the American cause, and especially to watch and counteract the 
movements of a band of tories, assembled on Long-Island ; ' serpents,' 
says he, in his characteristic manner, ' which it would be ruinous not 
to crush, before their rattles are grown.' This duty we may fancy 
him to have undertaken with peculiar satisfaction. The operations 
of these tories and of Governor Tryon, their Coryphaeus, would 
prove an interesting theme of research. It may be remarked, 
en passant, that though the city of New- York was stained in those 
days by strong imputations of toryism, the stigma was unjust. In 
mixtures of colors, it requires but little of a darker hue to deepen the 
brighest tints; and General Lee found the majority 'as well affected 
as any on the continent.' 

During the short period of his stay, this officer's j^roceedings were 
extremely active. His intended fortifications were projected on a 
comprehensive scale. With an intelligent eye, he embraced the ex- 
tensive localities to be defended, and detected their vulnerable points. 
A redoubt and battery at Hellgate were destined to prevent the 
passage of the enemy's ships to and fro in the Sound. Similar works 
were contemplated on the North River, and the opjjugnable portions 
of the town were reformed and strengthened. Long-Island was too 
important a field to escape his vigilance ; and he fixed, for the loca- 
tion of an entrenched camp, upon the very spot which subsequently 
became the scene of conflict. 

It were presumptuous, nay useless, to attempt to picture New- 



10 

York as she then was, when so many readers, far more vividly than 
the writer, realize from memory the vast akerations less than half a 
century has produced in the metropolis of the new world. On the 
walls of the New-York Historical Society rooms, hang various inte- 
resting maps, whereby some idea may be formed of those ancient 
features and dimensions, from which, to the present magnitude of our 
city, the transition is as unparalleled as it seems incredible. The old 
Knickerbocker town is laid down on one map, as it existed under the 
Stuyvesant dominion. In another, may be found the English city, 
before and after that disastrous fire, of which the ravages are deli- 
neated in a separate drawing, by an ancient eye-witness. General 
Lee's letters represent military operations not easily traced upon the 
transformed surface. Broadway was barricadoed two hundred yards 
in the rear of the dismantled fort, and all the streets leading to it 
were to be defended by barriers. He speaks, too, of erecting bat- 
teries on an eminence, behind Ti'inity church, to picture which to 
one's self, at the present day, requires no little stretch of the imagination. 

I know not whether these local changes may interest the reader, 
but to me they seem truthful illustrations of our fleeting destiny. 
Cities are the theatres of nations, where the busy throng enact an 
endless and varying drama, full of life and of reality. And, let me 
ask, what object can fill with a lonelier sense of desolation the wan- 
derer beneath the sunny skies of Greece, or moon-illumined heaven 
of Italy, than the crumbling walls, the deserted benches, the voice- 
less echoes of the theatre, where the living impersonations of the 
poet's fancy were once deified by the enthusiasm of the crowd ? 
When the ruins of an old city become in turn the foundations of a 
new one, the pilgrim vainly seeks the traces of the past, and the les- 
son becomes still more impressive. 

Monuments commemorate the peaceful traditions, and ruins the 
wars, of the old world. Surrounded by the vestiges of the past, its 
memories dwell in the European's thoughts. A tutored fancy evokes 
at will, from the tower and the column, the shades of the departed, 
and history may be realized, not in its events only, but in all its 
pomp and studied detail, its costume and its court. An unbroken 
chain, now of golden now of iron links ; here bright, there rusted ; 
here jeweled, and there blood-stained ; connects to-day with distant 
centuries. In Cologne, the mind is transported back a thousand 
years, in Rome, two thousand. The edifices which time hallows, in 
lieu of destroying, are the only monuments of this new-born land. 

The British General Clinton entered New- York simultaneously 
with General Lee. Unaccompanied by any force, he declared to the 



11 

latter that he had only come to pay his friend Tryon a visit ; of 
which Lee remai'ks, in a letter to the commander-in-chief, that ' if 
really the case, it was the most whimsical piece of civility he ever 
heard of.' It was the subsequent fortune of these generals to meet 
in Virginia and in North Carolinia. 

The Ameincan officer's turn for the humorous, was displayed by his 
giving our old friend King Sears, when sent into Connecticut to 
beat up recruits, the title of ' adjutant-general ;' a promotion with 
which, he jocosely wrote Washington, the rough patriot ' was much 
tickled ; it added spurs to his hat.' For all nominal distinctions, 
General Lee entertained unequivocal contempt, and declared that 
ratsbane were far pleasanter to his mouth, than the appellation of 
' Excellency' he was daily compelled to swallow. On the seventh of 
March, he departed for the South, where laurels awaited him among 
the orange flowers of spring. Lord Stirling was left in command, 
and the contemplated works were afterward but slowly and partially 
completed. 

The town of Boston was evacuated on the seventeenth of March, by 
the British, who put to sea for Halifax. Crowned with this signal tri- 
umph, General Washington arrived at New- York on the fourteenth 
of April, with the American army, which, to use his own exj)ression, 
•had maintained their ground against the enemy, under a want of 
powder ; had disbanded one army, and recruited another, within 
musket-shot of two-and-twenty regiments, the flower of the British 
force ; and at last beaten them into a shameful and precipitate re- 
treat, out of the strongest place on the continent, fortified at an 
enormous expense.' 

On the twenty-third of May, the commander-in-chief found him- 
self at Philadelphia, in conference with congress, who had summoned 
him thither, to devise remedies for the disastrous state of affairs in 
Canada. It was there determined to defend New- York, and the 
requisite men and supplies were placed at his disposal. Returning 
to the city, after an absence of fifteen days, he found great dis- 
affection among certain of the inhabitants. This was nourished by 
Governor Tryon, who, from his vessel at the Hook, despatched emis- 
saries in every direction. A deep plot, of his contriving, was only 
defeated by a timely discovery. His agents had so far pushed their 
temeiity, as to corrupt not only many in the American camp, but even 
some of the general's guard, a soldier in which, was found guilty, and 
shot. The object of this conspiracy was to make Washington a 
prisoner. 

To secure Quebec, and redeem Canada, on the one hand, to make 



12 

a powerful impression in the south on the other, and finally, to possess 
themselves of New- York, proved to be the designs of the British, 
during this campaign. A part of their fleet from Halifax arrived off 
Sandy-Hook on the twenty-eighth of June. The remainder followed 
within a week, and Greneral Howe established his head-quarters at 
Staten Island. In presence of a powerful enemy, gathering forces 
at the very door of the city, the troops were summoned to parade at 
six o'clock, one bright afternoon in early July. The British fleet lay 
in sight, and the assembled regiments knew not whether they were 
called together to attack or to repel. It was a fitting time and place 
for the proclamation of that glorious document, each word of which, 
well befitting a great nation speaking for itself, found an echo in every 
heart that beat there — the Declaration of Independence. I can 
conceive the beams of that setting sun to have met a rival glow in 
the ruddy cheeks to which the warm blood mantled, under the in- 
sjiiring words of liberty, drank in by willing ears. As the address 
ended, a shout of approbation rent the air. It was not the wild cry 
of a senseless mob on a holiday, but the voice of determination, 
which, to the close of that war, was the key-note of freedom. 

This event, which transmuted into free states the dependent colony 
and province, rolls up the curtain from before the dramatic portion 
of my story. The arrival of Lord Howe from England, on the 
twelfth of July, and the daily reinforcements of the British fleet, from 
that period, justified expectations of a sudden assault. Preparations 
were continued under General Putnam, for the defence of the city, 
and General Greene was on Long-Island, superintending the erection 
of a chain of woi'ks, to fortify it against the enemy's approach. 
About this time, several of the British vessels, under a favorable 
breeze, ran by the New- York batteries, uninjured by their fire, and 
much to the surprise of the Auiericans. 

On the eighth of August, General Washington wi'ote, that for the 
several posts on New- York, Long-Island, Governor's Island, andPau- 
lus Hook, he had but thirteen thousand five hundred and fifty-seven 
effective men, and that, to repel an immediate attack, he could count 
upon no other addition to his numbers, than a battalion from Maryland, 
under Colonel Smallwood. Opposed to him, was the entire British 
force, united at Sandy-Hook, by the middle of the month, consisting 
of twenty-four thousand men, combined with a fleet of more than 
one hundred and thirty vessels, ninety-six of which came in from the 
twelfth to the thirteenth. Let the reader remember, that this armada 
was afloat off" Sandy-Hook, between the heights of Neversink and 
Staten-Island. And who, on calling to mind this event, and reflecting 



13 

that, but yesterday, after a lapse of sixty-two years, a proud steamer 
was sent from England to this very city, then doomed to the fate of 
Carthage, now the inalienable ally of her former enemy, will deny 
that the growth of events maturing nations, is a wondrous charac- 
teristic of the age ; a token that in measure as it learns to ameliorate 
its condition, humanity is destined to cover the earth like the forest 
tree ; and that we do not, mayhap, sufficiently regard these intimations 
of a mighty future. 

The details of war were rapidly advancing in the city, on which 
the eyes of the nation were intensely fixed. Lead being scarce, the 
zealous burghers gave the troops their window-weights for bullets. 
Of these, one house alone contributed twelve hundred and another one 
thousand pounds weight ; and I doubt not, had bow-strings been in re- 
quest, our patriotic countrywomen would have hastened, like the Car- 
thaginians of old, to offer up their longest tresses in the sei-vice of free- 
dom. As the crisis drew near, the unseen anxiety of the commander- 
in-chief became redoubled beneath his clear eye and serene brow. 
He was every where, knowing no repose, the indefatigable guardian 
of the spirit of liberty. 

Already was the army in possession of that memorable address, 
so fervently breathed by the great commander, while awaiting the 
attack : ' The time is now near at hand, which must probably de- 
termine whether Americans are to be freemen or slaves ; whether 
they are to have any property they can call their own ; whether their 
houses and farms are to be pillaged and destroyed, and they confined 
to a state of wretchedness from which no human eiforts will probably 
deliver them. The fate of unborn millions will now depend, under 
God, on the courage and conduct of this army. We have therefore 
to resolve to conquer or die !' 

At this juncture, General Greene unhappily fell sick of a fever, 
and the im2:)ortant station on Long-Island was entrusted to General 
Sullivan. It is impossible to compare the aims and prospects of 
the rival forces, at this period, without feeling how daring was the 
gallantry of the Americans, in venturing so fearlessly upon the un- 
equal contest. 

The long-expected hour of attack arrived on the twenty-second of 
August, when intelligence was received of the landing of the British 
on Long-Island. The report of their signal repulse at Fort Moul- 
trie, by the Americans under General Lee, reached our camp on the 
preceding night, and was urged by Washington as an incentive to 
as proud exertions on the coming occasion. 

By the twenty-sixth, the British troops extended from the coast 



14 

between Gravesen J and Utrecht, to Flatbush and Flatlands ; Colonel 
Hand's regiment retiring before them. General Sullivan was super- 
seded in his command on the Island by General Putnam, and matters 
rapidly approached a denouement. 

The drawing opposite, is a sketch of the American lines at Brooklyn, 
and of the adjacent grounds on which the battle was fought. On 
reaching the encampment, of which he was so hastily placed, in com- 
mand. General Putnam found the American position secured by an 
inner and an outer line of entrenchments. The former was pro- 
tected by a strong position upon an eminence, near the Wallabout 
bay, now called Fort Greene. The only approach to it was across 
an isthmus, formed on one side by the bay and contiguous swamp, 
and. on the other, by a creek, running in from Gowanus Cove, with an 
impassable marsh on either side of it. This neck of land had been 
skilfully taken advantage of, by General Greene, and was perfectly 
defended by the entrenchments in its rear. The enemy were ex- 
pected in three directions ; along the coast; by the Flatbush road; and 
by the road which led fi'om Flatbush to Bedford. To face them in 
these quarters, an outer line of works had been organized. A chain 
of picquets, extending from Yellow-Hook round to Flatbush, were 
stationed from eminence to eminence, to give timely warning of their 
approach ; and the avenues were guarded by temporary breast- works, 
defending the main passes. Thus far. General Putnam adopted the 
defensive measures of General Greene, and these precautions proved 
successful, in the points they were designed to protect. 

From an attack of the enemy's ships at the Narrows, the American 
rear was also guarded by efficient batteries, at Red Hook, and on 
Governor's Island. General Sullivan had in charge the whole line 
of outer works, and was joined by Colonel Hand, on his withdrawal 
from the coast, at the landing of the British, and by Colonels Wil- 
liams and Miles, with their respective regiments. 

Such was the position of the Americans ; their numbers not ex- 
ceeding eight thousand eight hundred men. Their adversaries, af- 
ter landing on the twenty -second, parted in three divisions. The 
right wing, under Loi'd Cornwallis and Earl Percy, extended, on the 
twenty-sixth instant, from Flatbush towai'd Flatlands, about two miles 
in the rear. The centre, composed of the Hessians under General 
de Heister, was posted at Flatbush, and the left wing, on the coast, 
was commanded by General Grant, The centre was about four, and 
the right and left wings nearly six miles distant each from the Ame- 
rican camp. A chain of thickly-wooded hills, called the Heights of 



15 

Gowanus, and extending eastward to the extremity of the Island, lay 
between the two armies. 

The commander-in-chief passed the whole day of the twenty-sixth 
at Brooklyn, preparing for the expected assault. On the eve of this 
the first pitched battle of the war, his heart was full of anxiety. Con- 
soled by the conviction that every thing in his jjower had been done 
to strengthen the American forces, he relied now upon Providence, 
upon the justice of the cause, and upon their bravery. Toward the 
close of the day, he returned to New- York. 

On that afternoon, a spectator, to whom the interior of both camps 
could have been revealed, might have drawn a touching and interesting 
comparison. On one side, the hardened veteran ; opposed to him, 
the ingenuous recruit ; contrasted with the martial costume of the 
British, the worn and homely garments of the continentals ; with the 
park of burnished artillery, a few cannon bought with blood ; with 
polished arms and accoutrements, the long-rusted gun and sabre, torn 
down from the chimney-piece to answer a country's call. Among the 
British, a proud and conscious discipline ; among the Americans, a tie 
of brotherhood, the feeling of men who would die for each other, in 
defence of an injured mother. Here the proud oppressor; there the 
patriot, resolved to do or die. 

Our troops were, then, securely encamped for the night, the watch- 
fires lighted, the sentinels jDOsted, the hum of preparation over ; a 
challenge was now and then received and answered, and a guard, re- 
lieved. The wolf hero had been late in the trenches. It was a 
still August night ; a few soldiers lay within the tents ; many slept 
in the open air : 

' their knnpsacks spread, 

A pillow for the resting head :' 

arms and ammunition had been cleaned and inspected, and the 
sword loosed in its scabbard. Beneath the precipitous bank, flowed 
the ebbing waters of the unconscious bay, and the eye that looked on 
the city where Washington slept, found protection in the glance. In 
the ears of the hopeful American still resounded those stirring words 
of the orderly book, and many a heart beat as the hand grasped the 
gun, the blade. In the direction of the enemy, all was hushed ; this 
silence, mayhap, was ominous. Did none within that camp gaze with 
mistrust upon the dark and wood-capped hills of Gowanus 1 

At half past two o'clock, passing clouds obscured the haiTest 
moon ; the night waxed gloomy, and the air chill. Suddenly, a sharp 
report of musketry, in the direction of Yellow-Hook, alarmed the 



16 

American camp. It was a startling sound, in the stillness of the morn- 
ing, and the troops sprang to their ai'ms, as the reveille summoned 
each man to his duty. Many a brave lad awoke from dreams of 
peaceful home, of the father-house, and its loved inmates, where, in 
presence of the glad crops, the warlike sounds that lulled him to sleep 
seemed but as dream-notes, and the danger he anticipated, one that 
was passed. He had obeyed the watch-word of liberty, which called 
liira to the hardships of war ; but his heart told him life was sweet, 
and his cottage home a paradise. The drum rattled in his ear, and 
aroused him to the stern reality he feared not, courted not. 

Ere the alarm ceased beating, the men had seized their muskets. 
Word had been passed from the remote picquets on the coast, that the 
enemy were approaching. Lord Stirling was instantly directed by 
General Putnam to march with the two nearest regiments to their ren- 
counter. These proved to be the Pennsylvania and Maryland troops, 
under Colonels Haslet and Smallwood ; with whom, proceeding over 
the uneven ground in the direction of the attack, he found himself 
on the road to the Narrows, toward day-break, and soon met Colonel 
Atlee, with his Delaware regiment, retiring before the British, with 
the picquets to whose aid they had advanced. Stationing this officer 
on the left of the road by which the enemy were approaching, Lord 
Stirling formed his two regiments along an advantageous ridge, 
ascending from the road to a piece of wood on the top of a hill. 
The British were received with two or three warm rounds by the 
Delawares, who, as tbeir ground became untenable, withdrew to a 
wood on Lord Stirling's left, where they formed. 

The assailants, now in sight, proved to be two brigades, of four 
regiments each, under the command of Genex-al Grant. They pro- 
ceeded to occupy the elevation opposite Lord Stirling, at a distance 
of three hundred yards. Their light troops came one hundred and 
fifty yards nearer, with a view to gain possession of a superior emi- 
nence on his left. As they marched up this hill, they were met by 
the deadly fire of Kichline's rifle-corps, who had just reached the 
ground in time to protect this important point, and who, as I was 
recently informed by an old man, then and yet living near the sj^ot, 
mowed them down as fast as they ajjpeared. The Americans brought 
up two field-pieces to oppose the ten of their opponents. A sharp 
cannonade ensued, and was vigorously sustained on both sides, to a 
late hour ; until when, let us shift the scene. 

Wliile the Americans were occupied, as we have seen, on the pre- 
vious evening there was, toward dusk, an unusual stir among the 
troops in the British right wing. The regiments already at Flatlands, 



17 

under Earl Percy, were joined at night-fall by those under Lord 
Comwallis and General Clinton, who left the Hessians masters at 
Flatbush. The dark forms of the tall soldiery, the play of their 
muskets in the moonlight, the whispered order and firm tread of dis- 
cipline, all announced some sudden or adventurous movement. One 
by one, the companies filed oft' in the direction of New-Lots, and 
before night was far advanced, Flatlands was deserted. As they 
moved farther and farther away from the American lines, the furrows 
became relaxed on the brows of the British commanders, and to- 
ward daybreak, half a triumph already gleamed in the eye of Clin- 
ton who led the van. 

Shortly after daylight, the Hessians at Flatbush opened a mode- 
rate cannonade upon General Sullivan, who, with a strong detach- 
ment, had advanced on the direct road from Brooklyn thither, and 
now occupied the breast-works thrown up by General Greene, for the 
defence of this important pass. Colonels Miles and Williams were 
strongly posted on the Bedford road. At half-past eight, Count 
Donop was detached to attack the hill, by General De Heister, who 
soon followed with the centre of the army. 

With levelled pieces and eyes fixed on the enemy, the Americans 
stood firm on their vantage ground, nerved for the assault, and pre- 
pared to enact a second diama of Bunker Hill. From behind breast- 
work and tree, soldier and rifleman looked down upon the ascending 
foe, with a feeling of conscious security ; when lo ! a report of artil- 
lery, in the rear of their left, flew with its own velocity along the line. 
A second volley revealed to them, with fearful truth, that the enemy 
had turned their left flank, and placed them between two fires. Hor- 
ror, dismay, confusion, ensued ! The advancing Hessians were no 
longer faced by the whole band stationed to oppose them ; and vain 
the efforts of General Sullivan to rally the dispersing continentals, 
who hastened to regain the camp, while there yet was time. It was, 
alas, too late ! As regiment after regiment emerged from the wood, 
they encountered the bayonets of the British, and all retreat was cut 
off". Driven back into the forest, after desperate eflbrts to cleave their 
way through the close ranks of the enemy, they were met by the 
Hessians, a part of whom were at the same time detached toward 
Bedford, in which quarter the cannon of Clinton announced that he 
also was attacking the American rear. The British pushed their 
line beyond the Flatbush road, and when our brave troops found 
their only outlet was through the enemy, skirmish after skirmish en- 
sued, in which they displayed signal bravery. Many forced their 
way through the camp, some escaped into the woods, and many were 

c 



IS 

slain. Colonel Parry was shot through the head, while encouraging 

his men. „ , . 

I leave the reader to imagine the disastrous consequences of this 
surprise to the Americans, when, hemmed in by the sui^assmg num- 
bers, and cooperating wings of the British, they saw inevitable death 
or capture, on every side. Here, striking again through the wood, and 
lured by an enticing path, which promised safety, they rushed from 
its shelter upon the drawn sabres of the enemy; there, retir- 
ing to its recesses before a superior force, they fell upon the levelled 
muskets of the Hessians ; bullets and balls sought victims in every 
direction ; and many a brave soldier sank to die beneath the tall forest 
tree, offering up with his parting breath, a prayer for his country, 
consecrated by his life blood. 

Against the hottest of the enemy's fire. General Sullivan, on the 
heights above Flatbush, made a brave resistance for three hours. 
Here the slaughter was thickest on the side of the assailants. Fairly 
covered by the imperfect entrenchment, the Americans poured many a 
deadly volley upon the approaching foe. The old man, already men- 
tioned, well remembers seeing a pit wherein large numbers of the 
Hessians, who fell here, were buried ; and from another source, I 
learn, that, to stimulate the commander of these foreign mercenaries, 
he had been offered a golden substitute for every missing man. 

Leaving Generals Clinton and Percy to intercept the Americans in 
this quarter, Lord Cornwallis proceeded toward the scene of General 
Grant's engagement with Lord Stiriing. We left this gallant officer 
bravely opposing a superior force. He continued the resistance, 
until eleven o'clock, when, hearing a sharp firing in the direction of 
Brooklyn, it flashed upon him that the British were getting between 
him and the American lines. Discovering the position of Lord Corn- 
wallis, he instantly saw, that unless they forded the creek near the Yel- 
low Mills, the troops under him must all become prisoners. The reader 
will see that he had some distance to gain, before this could be effected. 
Hastening back, he found the enemy much stronger than he antici- 
pated ; and, that his main body might escape, he determined in per- 
son to' attack Lord Cornwalhs, who was posted at a house near the 
upper mill. This movement he performed with the utmost gallantry, 
leading half of Smallwood's regiment five or six several times to the 
charge, and neariy dislodging the British commander, who, but foi 
the arrival of large reinforcements, would have been driven from 
his station. This band of four hundred, composed, say the British 
accounts, of youths, the flower of the best families in Maryland, sus 
tained severe loss. But the object was attained, and the regiments 



19 



whose reh-eat it was designed to favor, effected their escape over 
marsh and creek w^h the loss of a single man drowned/ In h!s 

the .nlet^ But this, I am convinced, is incorrect. The self-devoted 
heroes of tins exploit were sun-ounded, and made prisoners of war. 
We may readily conceive with what feelings their brethren in the 
camp beheld the undeserved ill fortune of the troops engaged in the 
action. General Putnam, a warrior of the true stamp, constrained 
to remain within the fortifications, and so little prepared for the 
events of the day, as to be only able, where the enemy appeared to 
detach troops to meet them, saw with dismay the manoeuvre which 
made them masters of the field. His efforts had all along been di- 
rected to General Grant's motions. For the defence in front, he re- 
hed on General Sullivan to provide, and great was his surprise, on 
seemg the enemy turn that officer's flank. As the engagement be- 
tween Lord Stirling and General Grant gi-ew waiter, his attention 
was attracted by the broadside which the British frigate Roebuck 
opened upon the Red Hook battery in his rear. Too late awai'e of 
-.Ills mistake, he was compelled to await the issue. 
. At this juncture, General AVashington reached the lines, and be- 
held, with infinite grief, the discomfiture of his beloved troops. 
Wringing his hands, he is said, when he saw no aid could reach 
them, to have given vent to expressions of the keenest anguish. 
From the height he stood upon, the movements of both parties were 
revealed to him. Here, was seen Lord Stirling, gallantly attacking 
Cornwallis ; there, a troop of Americans, escaping with thinned num- 
bers through the British ranks, were pursued to the very entrench- 
ments. By the creek, soldiers plunging into the unknown depths of 
Its waters, or struggling through the miry bog, were fired upon by the 
foe; toward Flatbush, the Hessians and British were combining to 
enfold, m a still narrower circle, the few and undaunted continentals. 
Lest the foregoing imperfect description should have left obscure 
some of the details of this affair, let me briefly recapitulate its sue- 
cessive disasters. I have supposed the reader to be, where all would 
have chosen to stand on that occasion, on the American side. A glance 
at the motions of the British, will show how admirably their manoeu- 
vres were planned and executed. The success of the concerted 
movement was insured by the unforeseen malady of General Greene. 
All the passes to Brooklyn were defended, save one ; and it was by 
this that the troops, which decided the fortunes of the day, and were 
the same we left filing off from Flatland to New-Lots, on the previous 
night, turned the American flank. The road from Jamaica to Bed^ 



20 

ford was left unprotected ; the enemy early ascertained this fact ; 
and, to enable them to profit by our neglect, General Grant's advance, 
which was a diversion, had been devised. The fleet and General de 
Heister cooperated with him in this manoeuvre. General Putnam, 
taking this feint for a hona fide attack, was deceived ; and the Ame- 
ricans were entrapped by forces superior in discipline, in tactics, in num- 
bers, in good fortune, but not in courage ; for though eleven hundred 
were either killed or taken, near four thousand fought their way back 
to the camp. 

To the absence of General Greene, who had studied, and would doubt- 
less have guarded, all the approaches to the camp, and to the want of a 
general commanding officer throughout the day, may this disaster be at- 
tributed. General Putnam could not leave his lines, and the double care 
of New- York and Long-Island devolved upon the commander-in-chief. 
General Woodhull, who had been ordered to guard the road from 
Bedford to Jamaica, with the Long-Island militia, remained at 
Jamaica. The neglect which lost us the day, cost him his life. Riding 
home, after disbanding the volunteers under his command, he was 
captured by the British, and infamously cut to pieces, on his refusing 
to say, ' God save the king.' 

Impartiality must award high praise, on this occasion, to the bravery 
of the enemy's troops, who followed so hotly in pursuit, that they 
were with difficulty withheld from attacking the American trenches. 
At night, the patriots within them told their missing brethren ; and 
when their loss became knowTi, and uncertainty veiled the fate of the 
absent ones, gloom and despondency pervaded the camp. The vic- 
torious British, on the contrary, hastened to secure the ground they 
had gained, and, flushed with victory, passed the night in exultation. 

On the twenty-eighth, a violent rain kept the two armies in their 
respective encampments. That night, the enemy broke ground within 
about six hundred yards of Fort Greene, and on the following day 
were busily engaged in throwing up entrenchments. Their main force 
was advancing, by slow but sure approaches, to besiege the American 
fortifications, and their superior artillery would doubtless soon silence 
our batteries. The advanced sentinel of the British army was sur- 
prised, on the morning of the thirtieth, by the unwonted stillness within 
the American lines. Calling a comrade or two around him, they 
proceeded to reconnoitre. Emboldened by the silence, they crept 
near the embankment, and cautiously peeping into our camp, per- 
ceived not a vestige of the army to whose challenges they had lis- 
tened the night before. The alarm was given, and the party who first 
rushed in, to take possession of the works, saw in the mid-stream, out 

MB 1 a 6 



21 

of gun-shot and filled with well-pleased Americans, the last of the 
barges which had borne their comrades across the waters that night. 
Beyond it, in a small boat, there sat an American officer, of calm and 
dignified mien. On his pale countenance the anxious muscles were 
relaxing into a heavenly smile. This bark bore Caesar and his for- 
tunes ; and a prayer seemed to escape the lips of Washington, as a 
glance at the distant shore told him the American aiiny was beyond 
the reach of danger. 

Nine thousand men, with all their stores and ammunitions, crossed 
the East River during the night, unperceived by the enemy. For 
four-and-twenty hours previous, the commander-in-chief had not left 
the saddle. The immediate embarcation of the tx'oops was under the 
direction of General M'Dougall, to whose vigilant activity high 
praise is due. 

Incurious popular opinion has admitted this to have been a shame- 
ful defeat. I trust that all who have watched the phases of the day, 
and the concurrence of good and evil foztune on the respective parts 
of the British and Americans, will acknowledge the injustice of this 
decision. One great advantage of the assailant lies in the choice of 
points for attack, presented by any extensive field. This was pecu- 
liarly the case in the battle of the twenty-seventh of August. The 
outer line of defence was disproportioned to the force employed ; 
and the enemy's subsequent moves, compelling our army to retreat, 
proved the fortifications within, to have been planned on too small a 
scale for the defence of that part of the island. 

It was no disgraceful rout. We have shown, that the troops behaved 
with high spirit ; and would that we might do justice to the distinguished 
courage displayed by the bands under General Sullivan and Lord Stir- 
ling, on this occasion. In particular, may the attack of the latter upon 
Lord Conwallis, be singled out as a feat of chivalrous gallantry ; and the 
stand long maintained by the Marylanders, upon the hill, with flying 
colors, under the enemy's severest fire, be cited as examples of Spartan 
heroism. Some blame has been attached by Gordon to General Sul- 
livan, for neglect of vigilance upon the unfortunate Jamaica road. 
This ofl[icer is defended by Judge Marshall, who observes, that the 
paucity of his troops, and the entire want of cavalry, forced him to 
rely upon General Woodhull for the defence of that pass. 

It may be asked, why a defeat has been selected for my theme, in lieu 
of some one of the victories of the revolution. I answer, that even a re- 
verse, when stamped by so much bravery, and incurred through such un- 
forseen ill-chance, is itself a high encomium upon the valor of our ances- 
tors. We have no stronger comment to offer those who would stigma- 



22 

rise it, than our actual liberties. By falling, the infant learns to walk ; 
by losses, the merchant learns to gain ; by defeat, and all history tends 
to prove it, an army is taught to conquer. Moreover, the reverses im- 
bue us with a saner spirit than the triumphs of the revolution. They 
recall to mind the price of our [liberty. If success flushes the brow 
of the victorious, and lends impetuosity to determination, defeat still 
more powerfully operates to paralyze courage, and depression is its 
immediate, if not lasting, result. It is, then, a manlier study, to mark 
the workings of the spirit which took breath in discomfiture for re- 
newed resistance at Harlem, where Leitch and Knowlton fell, and 
at White-Plains. Such a soul filled the breast of Washington, His 
glory lay more in retrieving the war's losses, throughout the long 
struggle, than even in the laurels of Princeton, and Trenton, and 
York. 

This splendid retreat won civic crowns for the American hero ; and 
its parallel is only to be found in the Spanish campaign of the con- 
queror of Gaul. But the favorable breeze, the calm water, and the thick 
fog which, toward two in the morning, veiled the Americans from the 
British, and yet left the river clear, seem direct interpositions of that 
gracious Providence, which in after days, guided our revolution to 
victory. 

I began this paper with the remark, that all Jcnoivledge is history. 
Who can now gaze upon our magnificent city, from Flatbush Hill, or 
wind his way among the populous streets, which intersect a portion 
of the old battle-ground, without owning that the chapter of past 
events I have reviewed, is the most instructive lesson we can derive 
from the metamorphosed present 1 I recently visited the localities of 
this conflict, on one of those genial days, when the opening earth sym- 
pathises with the heart-thaw of memory. Beneath the fight-scene, 
the dead are soon to rejoin those who perished there. A grave-gar- 
den has been laid out among the hills of Gowanus ; and beneath the 
trees, quiet tomb-stones will soon be reflected in the lake, whose 
banks reechoed, sixty-two years since, the alarum of soldiers tJien 
mirrored in its placid bosom, umo engulfed in the stream of eternity. 



















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